


A Corner Office with a View

by mirawonderfulstar



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Pretending To Be Oblivious, Banter, Come Eating, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Office Sex, Oral Sex, PIV Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Roleplay, That Last Tag Is Barely Touched On If That Is A Concern, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Trans Male Character, Trans character written by trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 15:25:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17470118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirawonderfulstar/pseuds/mirawonderfulstar
Summary: Aziraphale intentionally misunderstands what Crowley expects from a roleplay suggestion.





	A Corner Office with a View

**Author's Note:**

> is this anatomically practical? I neither know nor care.

“I’m not sure I understand.” Aziraphale said, sitting down in the plush, high-backed swivel chair behind Crowley’s desk and giving it an experimental spin. Crowley had bought the chair several years ago after seeing a news report stating that standard office chairs were bad for the back. Not that it mattered, because Crowley spent hardly any time in this room and any back problems he might experience were both temporary and optional. Crowley watched as Aziraphale rotated to face him across the desk again. “You want to roleplay we work in an office?”

“No, angel,” Crowley said. Exasperation and embarrassment fought their way up his chest and he flushed as he stared out the window and tried to think how to explain what he wanted. “It’s like… you pretend you’re the boss, right? And—”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Why would I be the boss when this is your office?”

“You’re sitting in the chair so you’re the boss.”

“Oh, is _that_ how it works now?” Aziraphale sniffed. “I would think—"

“Doesn’t the Man Upstairs sit on a throne or something?” Crowley snapped. “’Seated at the right hand of the father’, isn’t that what the bloody Catholics say?”

“Yes, but the implication that power is somehow conditional upon having—”

“That’s not the point.” Crowley gestured expansively around the room. “This is a nice office, right? You only have a nice office if you’re the boss, and the way this goes is that I come in and I say something like, I’d quite like that promotion and I’ll do anything to get it.”

“What promotion?” Aziraphale asked with an air of mild disinterest. He leaned back in the chair enough that he could start rummaging through the drawers of the desk, most of which were empty. The only thing Crowley really kept in this room, apart from his wall safe and bookshelves, was a collection of stock-related paperwork, but it was in the filing cabinet next to the window. Crowley snapped his fingers and the drawer Aziraphale had pulled out closed again sharply.

“It doesn’t matter.” Crowley said. “The promotion isn’t the important part, what’s important is that I’ll do anything to get it, and then you take advantage of me.”

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley again. A small crease had appeared between his brows as he frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Crowley sighed and refrained from rolling his eyes with enormous difficulty. Why he assumed Aziraphale would just go along with this instead of trying to poke holes in common porn scenarios he had no idea. It shouldn’t have surprised him after they’d ended up spending an hour three weeks ago arguing about the inherent ridiculousness of the idea of sleeping with someone who delivered you takeout, yet here they were. “Which part don’t you understand?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “I’m sorry, my dear, it’s just… perhaps you’d better give me a demonstration?”

Crowley, bouncing on the balls of his feet with impatience, made it all the way to sitting in the now-vacated chair and directing Aziraphale to go stand in the open doorway before he stopped. “You’re winding me up.”

Aziraphale leaned against the doorframe, looking mildly guilty. “Yes, I am a bit. I know exactly what you mean, I’m just trying to understand the… what was it we were talking about the other night… the underlying psychology.”

Crowley ran a hand through his hair and blew air past his lips. “It’s a power imbalance thing, angel. Also a bit of a privacy thing, because generally offices are only semi-private and somebody could walk in at any time, but obviously that doesn’t work as well because this is my home.” He stood back up. “Do you not want to do this? Is that why you’re being an insufferable pedant?”

Aziraphale shook his head and walked back into the room. “No, I’d like very much to do this with you. Get back out of the chair.”

Crowley stood up, and instantly Aziraphale had him pushed up against the large plate glass window that looked out into the side street between Crowley’s building and the next one over. “Aziraphale!” Crowley yelped, and then hissed a breath out from between his teeth as Aziraphale ground his hips against Crowley’s ass.

“If this fantasy of yours has a lack-of-privacy aspect to it, I rather think your floor-to-ceiling window comes in handy, my dear.” Aziraphale murmured against the shell of his ear, and Crowley shivered. “Bit of a shame we’re on the top floor, but then I suppose not many people walk through this alley anyway.” He had Crowley completely pinned against the window, held in place by his greater height and breadth, and Crowley sucked in a breath as one of the angel’s hands slid over his hip.

“Angel,” Crowley started. He didn’t know what he’d been planning to say, but the moment Aziraphale lowered his head to press a open-mouthed kiss to Crowley’s neck it flew from his mind. “ _Oh_.” Crowley’s head fell backwards onto Aziraphale’s shoulder, and he caught a brief glimpse of the pair of them in the reflection of the glass before his eyes squeezed shut as Aziraphale’s hand crept into his pants.

“This is what you wanted, yes?” Aziraphale ground his hips against Crowley again, and Crowley gasped at the hardness there.

“Yesssss.” Crowley moaned, rocking his hips backwards and listening to the hitch in Aziraphale’s breath.

Aziraphale fingered him with familiar ease, sliding through the slick heat between Crowley’s legs. Crowley let his weight lean on Aziraphale as he undid his belt and tried to do Aziraphale’s as well before getting impatient and miracling the angel’s pants off.

“It’s a shame we’re not on the balcony at the front of the flat.” Aziraphale said as he angled Crowley’s hips. “People deserve to see you like this.”

Crowley gasped as Aziraphale slid into him, as Aziraphale pushed him flat against the glass and turned his head so he could remove Crowley’s sunglasses. One of Crowley’s hands pressed against the glass and Aziraphale took it in his own to kiss his palm. “You’re so beautiful.” Aziraphale sighed against his skin, and Crowley let out a laugh that was more tremulous pleasure than anything else.

Crowley’s eyes flickered from Aziraphale, fucking him and kissing him and stroking a hand down, rubbing his clit and making him gasp, to the window, which mostly looked out on the white brick of the facing building and the fire escape and which realistically didn’t offer much of a view of their current activities to any but the nosiest passerby, craning their head up and up from the street. Still, the idea of what they must look like right now, Crowley splayed across glass, completely at Aziraphale’s mercy in more ways than one, did entirely capture the feeling he’d been after when he’d tried to suggest they have sex in the office half an hour ago. Being exposed, being possessed and commanded and _held_ , secure and more-or-less comfortable against his angel, his angel who was definitely coming in him right now, Crowley realized with a moan.

“ _Aziraphale_.”

“Did you come, dearest?” Aziraphale asked, seemingly more because he wanted to use the endearment than because he needed to ask, because he was already turning Crowley around and nudging him backwards against the desk, spreading Crowley’s legs and going to his knees.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley repeated as he swallowed, lightheaded and so painfully aroused he wondered why he didn’t discorporate on the spot. “I think typically the point of a roleplay like this is that _I_ blow _you,_ ideally _under_ the desk.”

“Ridiculous.” Aziraphale murmured as he pulled Crowley’s hips towards himself and settled back into Crowley’s chair when he realized the height of the desk didn’t really allow for him to be on the floor. “As if I don’t know you prefer to be on the receiving end of oral sex.” He sounded, somehow, as vaguely disapproving as if they were discussing the recent uptick in problems with the tube, or the chilly weather as of late, instead of like he was a moment away from licking his own come off Crowley’s thighs.

Crowley threw his head back and collapsed against the dark wood of the desk, his vision whiting out as Aziraphale put his mouth on him.


End file.
